


Change of Seen

by cynicalwerewolf



Series: The Wyrdness that is Life [1]
Category: New World of Darkness, Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-24
Updated: 2010-09-24
Packaged: 2017-10-12 04:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynicalwerewolf/pseuds/cynicalwerewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winston Zeddermore had expected a strange job with weird employers, but he hadn't expected this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change of Seen

**Author's Note:**

> Disclamer: The movie Ghostbusters is owned by Columbia Pictures. The cartoon The Real Ghostbusters is owned by DiC. Changeling the Lost is owned by White Wolf Games. I claim no ownership of any of them, and am making no profit from this work.
> 
> Author's Note: This is a fusion with the New World of Darkness line of roleplaying games. Therefore, situations will be altered from the canon. There is also mention of past rape and other nonconsentual sexual activity of a character in the past, who was a teenager at the time of the rape, and there are mentions and descriptions of dark situations, including slavery.

"Are you okay, Mr. Zeddermore? I remember our first ghost, it was a big shock…" Dr. Stantz, Raymond, Ray, he said to call him Ray, continued after that, but I was still processing what had happened. I'd thought, well to be frank, I thought that 'ghostbusting' was just a con, or a fad. I'd never even considered that it might be the real deal. Right up to the point I'd been taken on a 'bust' and been given a full ghost trap. There was something in it, and I knew then that it was no trick, there had been something in that trap, something malevolent, that if it had ever been human, it was so far gone it was no longer even remotely so.

"Are there anymore, Egon?" Dr. Venkman asked. The bust had been supposed to be an easy one, just one spirit. When we got there, it wound up being four 'class fives', all of them with mischief on their minds. It was rather hairy for a while, and I can understand why they want someone else on the job with them.

"No, Peter. That was the last of them," Dr. Spengler said. "We should take these spirits home and place them in the containment unit. Mr. Zeddermore can learn how to do so. That is," he addressed me, "if you still wish to take the job."

"Yeah, I do. I think you guys need help in the worst way, and I'd feel like scum if I didn't give it to you," I said. Ray looked happy, but slightly reserved, which I just knew was unusual, because I could tell that usually Ray throws himself into any emotion he feels. It's just his nature, I guess.

The three doctors shared a glance that I couldn't even hope to interpret, and Dr. Venkman said, "There's just one more thing to take care of before you're hired. It'll have to wait until we're back at the firehouse, though. It can't be done here."

I wondered what needed to be taken care of. I had already shown that I wasn't going to freak out at the sight of ghosts, or whatever the heck Class Fives are, if they didn't fit the strict definition of ghost. All the way to the firehouse, I felt like I was going to burst with anticipation of what was coming. When we arrived, it was dark. Ray and Dr. Spengler took the ghost traps and went to the basement to place the ghosts in the containment unit, while Dr. Venkman took me upstairs to the sleeping area. He paced for a little bit, then said, "This is going to sound and look really strange. We'll understand if you want to back out either before, or after you see this, but if you're going to do this, you have to know." He turned to face me, saying, "I'll show you what lies on the other side, beyond ghosts and demons, if you swear not to tell. I'll give you that ability for one moon, twenty-eight days, and if you stick it out for thirteen moons, I'll let you see for a lifetime. All you have to do is never tell anyone who does not already know." He watched me with green eyes that seemed to glow. "Do you swear? Do you take oath on whatever you hold most sacred, as I take oath on my True Name, Unshared?"

Somehow, I could hear the capital letters on True Name and Unshared. I knew that if I swore, my life would never be the same again. If I were a sensible man, I would leave now. However, if I had been a sensible man, I wouldn't have left construction work for ghostbusting. "I'll take that oath. I swear on all that's holy that I won't tell, to see the other side," I said. Suddenly, Dr. Venkman changed before my eyes. He was still human, or at least, mostly human, but no human had such delicately pointed ears, or eyes that looked like discs of the finest jade. They weren't so...perfectly sculpted, as if any imperfections in face, form, or proportion had been smoothed out, like a Greek statue. They also didn't have hair of the color of a deeper green jade, or skin like blue jade. Or glow like that stuff from the swamps, foxfire, I think it's called; he hadn't turned on the lights, probably so I'd see that glow. I'd have thought it a con, but he couldn't have done anything while I was looking right at him.

He smiled at me, with teeth like, well, white jade, to repeat a term, not unkindly, and said, "Now you see." His teeth were faintly vulpine. There were footsteps on the stairs behind me, and I turned to see Ray and Dr. Spengler and got another shock. Ray had lightning dancing all over his body, and his hair seemed to be composed of little lightning bolts, at least in part. Dr. Spengler was even taller, and anorexically thin, his face longer and leaner than even before. His hair, which hadn't been that colorful or lively before, was bone white, pulled back into a limp ponytail, and he was watching me with unblinking blue cats-eyes, the only part of him that had any color at all, aside from his red framed glasses. There was writing on his forehead, along his cheekbones from the corner of his eye and extending from the right corner of his lips. It looked like Latin, and the way it was written it looked like wet ink, still glistening. I decided to focus on Ray's eyes, then discovered that instead of being the warm gray of before, they were stormy gray and pupilless, as if I was looking through a window into a storm cloud.

"Mr. Zeddermore, we have left one of the ghosts still in the trap. It is time that you learned…" Dr. Spengler's deep voice trailed off as he saw the way I looked at them, "Peter, I thought we had agreed that we would be together when we showed him. I also thought that you would give him more warning."

"Spengs, before it happened to you, would you have believed anyone who said, 'Hey, we aren't fully human'? I don't know about you, but a trip to Bellevue isn't in my plans for the day. And as for not waiting for you, I thought it would be easier on him if he only got one shock at a time," was Dr. Venkman's response.

Dr. Spengler opened his mouth to argue more, but I finally got my wits back together and asked, "What the hell are you guys?"

It was Ray who answered, "We are of the Lost."

"The lost? How were you lost…Wait, of? There are more people like you?"

"Hey, I resent that! There's no one else like me," Dr. Venkman said.

Ray and Dr. Spengler rolled their eyes at that; at least I thought Ray did. It was kind of hard to tell, with no pupils or whites of the eyes. For all that it was discomfiting to see cat's eyes where human ones should be, at least you could see what he was looking at. But his stare still gave me the willies. I don't really know why they bothered me more than Ray or Dr. Venkman's more alien eyes, but they did. Ray said, "We'll explain, but we should go to the kitchen. It's going to be a long explanation, and you'd probably be better off sitting down for it."

We all went to the kitchen. I turned on the lights, hoping that the familiar light of light bulbs would make the other three seem less alien than that odd glow that Dr. Venkman emitted did. It didn't. Dr. Spengler started to make hot chocolate, while Dr. Venkman and Ray settled themselves at the table. They looked at me, and Dr. Venkman said, "Well, come on, sit. You've been doing well so far. You're not calling the papers on us, or the government to claim that there're alien infiltrators among us."

I wondered if that response had happened. I doubted it. As far as I knew, I'd been the first person to agree to become a Ghostbuster after seeing a real ghost or spirit. I sat down, then said, "Okay. I agreed to become a Ghostbuster, and I keep my word. And even though you're weirder than I thought," Dr. Venkman made a face, "it's not enough to drive me off, now how 'bout you tell me what the lost are."

"The Lost," Ray said, "are those taken by the Good Neighbors, and…"

"The good neighbors?" I asked.

"The Others," Dr. Spengler said from where he waited for the milk to heat.

"Themselves, the Cousins," was Dr. Venkman's addition to the conversation.

"The Fair Family," Ray suggested.

"You mean to say that you were kidnapped by the faeries?" I was incredulous; it seemed utterly ridiculous to hear educated men talk about being kidnapped by faeries in this day and age. But all three of them winced when I spoke the word faerie.

Dr. Spengler was the one who spoke next, "It may be superstition, but it is said that to name the Others is to invite them to come into this world. I may be a man of science, but I am a man of science who does not wish to return to Arcadia. It seems prudent to not invite trouble of that nature here."

"Arcadia? I thought that was a place in ancient Greece."

"It was," Ray replied, "But it's also the name of the place where the Good Neighbors come from."

Well that answered that question. I knew I shouldn't ask the next one, but I had to know. "And I know you probably don't want to tell me, but what happened to you there?"

"What gives you the right to know that?" was Dr. Venkman's short reply. He wasn't the only one of them who had a problem with that question, I noticed. Ray's normally open face was shuttered and Dr. Spengler's was utterly expressionless, aside from a certain look in his eyes, like a cat spotting a larger predator coming towards it.

"I probably have no right to the information. But I'll probably need to know at some point, and because we're going to be living in close quarters I'll have to know what to avoid," I took a deep breath, then said, "I was in 'Nam, towards the end. I've seen shell-shocked men. I've seen men who I thought had it all together come back and fall apart; the docs said it was because of something that happened there. Now, you haven't said what happened to you there, and I probably can't imagine the reality, but I need at least a little background. I'm sorry for bringing up bad memories, but, again, I do need to know some of what happened, Ray, Dr. Venkman, Dr. Spengler."

Dr. Venkman shuddered, then, surprisingly said, "Call me Peter, Mr. Zeddermore. Since you will be living under the same roof as us you should call me by my name." He paused, and Dr. Spengler gave similar sentiments, then Dr. Ve…Peter continued, "It's just not pleasant remembering, even what we do remember, or what we can piece out from information gathered after our return, Mr. Zeddermore."

"Well, don't call me Mr. Zeddermore anymore. That's my father, and heaven forbid I turn into him now. I'm Winston. And what do you mean, what you remember? You can't remember what happened to you?" I asked as Egon started mixing up the hot chocolate.

It was Ray who said, "Something about the trip back through the Thorns causes the memory to fade. Egon and I," here he gestured towards Egon, who nodded over his shoulder, "And the whole of the Autumn Court, have a variety of hypotheses, which would take too long to explain. However, most of the rest of the Lost are happy that they don't have to remember everything that happened to them in Arcadia. It's beautiful in many places, but that beauty holds terrors that this world will never know, except in passing." I wondered about the mention of thorns and what the heck the Autumn Court was, but I knew that we'd get to them eventually. Egon brought over the hot chocolate and took his place in the darkest corner of the room. I wondered about that, too, but figured I should let the three Lost get to things at their own pace. I had already pushed them into agreeing to tell me about what had happened in Arcadia. That was enough. Ray continued, "I was taken to the Shining Network by one of the Neighbors that if I ever knew its name, I've forgotten it. I was a message runner…" it was hard for me to picture the stocky Ray as a runner, but I figured I didn't know when this was. He could have been a skinny kid and filled out, "…until I escaped through a doorway of light into the Hedge. Came back through the Thorns right where I'd left, though I didn't find that out until later."

Ray stopped there, and I asked, "How old were you?"

His face grew even more shadowed, his eyes were nearly black, and the lightning around him was sticking close to his skin. He said, "Five when I was taken, fourteen when I found my way back. It took me from the backseat of my parents' car and left them to die after causing the accident in the first place."

"I'm sorry," I said. I knew it probably wouldn't help, but I didn't know what else to say to that. I don't know what could be said to that.

There was a pause, then Egon said, "I was also five. My great-grandmother Spengler had just died and we were cleaning out her effects. I found a set of crystal dice in a trunk. I was drawn to them and, after studying them for a time, I threw them. The Snow Queen came at the summons, and I spent the next seven years chronicling what she did to helpless prisoners until, while shelving the latest account of atrocities, I knocked the book next to it off the shelf. I found my name in it. I had forgotten that I even existed as anything other than 'Slave'. I then started covertly searching for a way out. I found it and slipped back through the Hedge. I came out right outside our house. When I went to the door," his voice grew bitter, "My father came, and asked who I was. When I told him I was his son, he informed me that I was a liar, that his son was upstairs, doing his homework, where anyone who was not indigent should be. He then called the police on me. Someone sent word to some relations of my mother, who decided to keep me, even if they weren't sure that I was related to them at all."

That had to hurt. But how… "How was there was a son upstairs? If you were gone, who was that?"

Egon replied, "That was a fetch. A replica of a person, created out of unliving matter and imbued with 'a piece of one's shadow', which can be interpreted to be a piece of the person's soul." He sighed deeply, and said, "Perhaps it was for the best. My father would never have accepted my interest in the paranormal, and may have even disowned me for it. This way, I was allowed to live my life the way I would prefer to live it."

I doubted that Egon was really that untroubled about his father's response to his homecoming, but Peter began his story, "I was fifteen, traveling along with a carnival with my father. The Bright Lady came as a carnival-goer, she told me that I was a handsome boy, and said she wanted to show me something. I was star-struck, you know how you can be at fifteen, and I said sure. She took me to a tent I hadn't seen before and there was another me! I was stunned, and tried to run, but she grabbed me, I still remember her cruel strength. She took me to her home in Arcadia and in that time, I became one of the Bright Ones. After I was transformed, she sold me to the Lord of the Devouring Darkness, and he," Peter's eyes were downcast, "Used me as a pleasure slave. I escaped three years after my kidnapping. Made my way home to Mom. Unlike Egon's Dad, she had never believed the fetch was her son. She welcomed me back. Believed me, gave me a place to stay while I caught up with what I missed. Wound up going to college at twenty on a scholarship. Met these guys the following year," he took a deep breath, then looked at me with those jade eyes, "Now you know."

Now I knew, indeed. However, part of Peter's story struck me, well, several things, actually. "Why do the…" I considered all the euphemisms for Faerie that I had heard earlier and settled on, "…Others take humans in the first place? I mean, all the stories say that fairies are beautiful creatures. I mean, Peter's handsome enough, but why would one of the Others choose a human as a pleasure slave? I mean, if they're going for beauty, wouldn't it make sense to go to another one of the Others?"

"Not all the Good Neighbors are beautiful, although many are," Ray said. "Also, they're intensely selfish beings. The idea of cooperating enough to have pleasure with each other is too much for them. Any cooperation involves powerful Contracts with either another of the Neighbors or with Arcadia itself. They can't break most of these contracts without being banished, a fate worse than death to them. Also, humans have something that none of the Neighbors have, souls. Something about humans brings them like moths to a flame."

"Yeah, except instead of dying in it, they take the flame and twist it into something else," was Peter's sour contribution.

"The Taking also shatters the soul, which is torn on the Thorns. While humans can live in Arcadia with only whatever fragments are left to them after the trip through the Hedge, it is hypothesized that only return to this world restores the soul to its rightful place. In a rather battered and tattered form," Egon said.

Leaving aside the talk of souls for another time, although I wondered if the Others were the ones who could 'destroy both body and soul' warned about in the Bible, I went to the other thing that bothered me about Peter's story, "In your story, you said you saw your fetch. How come your name is unshared?"

Peter took a deep breath, "My fetch is dead. It died in prison. I kept up with what happened to it. It became a conman like my father, but didn't have the genuine Venkman charm, I guess," he said, trying to inject some humor into the situation. "It was in and out of prison over the eleven years of its life, and apparently, it betrayed someone important enough to arrange for an accident," he gave a soft chuckle, but there was no humor in it, "One of the worst parts of changeling society is that a good portion of the Lost would kill their fetches if they weren't so bothered by killing something that looked like them. Some actually do, or hire someone to kill the fetch for them. There's a whole lot of reasons, although here, due to the relative strength of the Spring Court, a reconciliation, or at least a purposeful avoidance of the fetch is strongly encouraged and greatly preferred to outright murder unless the fetch is clearly a danger. There's a whole world of psychology to be written about the Lost, but it can't be published, mores the pity." I could tell he was trying to redirect the conversation, which I was more than willing to. At first I was horrified by the talk of killing fetches, denying that any human would do something like that, but then I realized humans did worse, and to people who weren't apparently responsible for stealing their lives, and that changelings had been fully human before their kidnapping.

"My fetch is currently running Spengler labs, in light of my father's recent death," Egon said.

"And I never had a fetch," was Ray's response.

"Alright, now tell me about the Hedge."

"The Hedge is not so much another world, as it is a barrier between this plane of existence and Arcadia. The Lost, as beings with connections to both worlds, can access it. It is dangerous, but has valuable items, which changelings can collect and use," Egon explained.

"What kind of items?" I asked.

"Tokens, which are items with a magic power imbued into them, or goblin fruits, which have a variety of effects when eaten," Ray said.

"Some changelings also make homes in the hedge, called Hollows. They usually don't live there all the time. It really ruins a changeling's clarity to do that. Clarity is how clearly we can see the real world. They just serve as a bolt hole," Peter said.

"Also, if you need to get into or out of someplace quickly, it serves as an escape-route, of course, a rather dangerous one," Egon said.

"Okay, I can buy that. Now, Peter, what did you mean when you said you were turned into a bright one?"

Even though I addressed the question to Peter, it was Egon who answered, "There are divisions among the Lost, usually brought about by differences in durance. There are six seemings, which are essentially a broad category, with an ability that all members share, as well as stereotypes and weaknesses associated with them. A kith is a subcategory of seeming whose members all tend to have similar durances and have a distinct kinship in abilities. Peter is one of the Fairest seeming, and his kith is the Bright Ones. Ray is an Elemental, while his kith is the Levinquicks. I am a Darkling, and my kith is the Antiquarians. There are also Ogres, Beasts, and Wizened, as well as other kiths associated with our seemings, such as the Mirrorskins and Lurkgliders for Darklings or the Dancers and Shadowsouls for the Fairest."

Peter said, "Eventually, you'll meet other Lost, but they won't expect you to know all about their seeming and kith, or recognize them as members of it. They'll tell you if they want you to know what exactly they are."

While I was curious about what the various kiths were, and how they related to these seemings, I decided to go onto the next point that I figured I needed to know about, "How come I couldn't see you the way you are at first? And what happened so that I could see you?"

"There's something called the Mask, which protects the Lost on our return to this world," Ray said. "It shows us mostly as we used to be, although there are subtle changes. My eyes used to be brown, before I was taken, for instance. I had a hell of a time explaining that change, although Aunt Lois was great about the whole business."

I was about to ask why they said that the mask protected the Lost, when Peter said, "I know what you're going to ask. Can you imagine what would happen if we came back and everyone could see us the way we are? There'd be everything from people claiming that we're either angels or demons to talk of an alien invasion. There'd be studies, and not everyone would care if the subjects were willing, or if they came out of it intact in body, mind, and soul. Or alive, for that matter."

I thought for a second that Peter was just exaggerating the danger for my benefit, you know, trying to make sure that I wasn't going to go back on my word and tell anyone, but then I looked at Ray and Egon. Ray seemed genuinely scared at the prospect of anyone finding out. Egon was too, although he was hiding it. I looked back at Peter, and I could tell he was as well, although he was hiding it like Egon was. However, Egon spoke up, saying, "Another point about the Hedge is that in its confines, changelings appear as we are, without the Mask. That is one of the dangers of opening a pathway into the Hedge, as well as the fact that the doorways remain open for an amount of time depending on how powerful the Wyrd of the changeling who opened the door in that particular instance is."

Filing wyrd in the list of things I had to ask about later, I then asked, "Okay, how come I can see you now?"

It was Ray who answered, "The oath that Peter had you swear infused you with some glamour, which is how we power contracts and swear binding oaths. The glamour allows you to see through the Mask. However, breaking an oath causes punishments to be levied by the Wyrd, some of them quite nasty."

"Okay, what would happen if I were to break my oath, for instance?" I asked.

"You would continue to see the supernatural, but it would become twisted, a nightmare instead of a dream. All you would see would be the terrifying and nightmarish and none of the beautiful things would appear, or if they did, they'd take on a nightmarish role," was Peter's response.

I knew that it would be hard to keep this secret, especially without any other normal human to talk to, but I had always intended to keep my oath, even before I found out about the punishment. I asked, "Does anyone else know about you guys?"

"Our secretary does," Egon said. "She will potentially be a witness to many encounters with the paranormal, besides having to be able to discern whether a client may be something attempting to lure us into a trap. Also, if something decides to bring the fight to us, we need everyone to be able to escape through the Hedge. Most non-corporeal beings will not, or cannot, go into the Hedge. You and she will, naturally, have to learn the local Hedge well enough to at least find an exit should something happen to us."

"Okay," I said, although I wasn't looking forward to going into this Hedge. There were probably dangers that these guys weren't mentioning at the moment in the interest of getting through these explanations. I'd let them for now, but I'd be sure to get the whole picture before going into the Hedge. I continued, saying, "Now, what is wyrd, and I'm assuming that the contracts you mentioned don't have anything to do with lawyers, so explain them, too."

Both Egon and Ray started to answer, but Peter interrupted them, "Wyrd is our connection to our fey side. Contracts are like spells. If you want the more technical answer, ask Ray or Egon, but that's the simple one."

I could get behind simple. I got the feeling that Egon would go into the esoteric and Ray would simply go so fast that he'd leave me behind without meaning to. I said, "Now, tell me about the Autumn Court. I assume that there are courts for the other seasons?"

"Yes," Ray said, "There are four seasonal courts, one for each season and associated with a particular emotion, along with a particular mode of dealing with the human world and Arcadia. Spring is the court of Desire, Summer is that of Rage, Autumn is Fear, and Winter is Sorrow. The Spring Court feels that life should be beautiful and lived for today. The Summer Court thinks that Faerie should be fought wherever it is found and that competition should be cherished. The Autumn Court thinks that the methods of Faerie and its inhabitants should be studied and used against the Good Neighbors. The Winter Court believes in hiding and only striking when necessary and from shelter. In New York, Winter is strongest, with Spring close behind and Autumn is weakest. Summer has a fair showing, but not enough to really compete with Winter and Spring."

"Why are the courts associated with particular emotions? And do you belong to a court?"

"Changelings," Egon began, "Do not have an infinite supply of glamour. When it is gone, we need to replenish it. There are four main sources of glamour. The first is consuming certain goblin fruits. The second is through accessing the dreams of mortals, which is also known as oneiromancy. The third is using a contract with a Boon of glamour. The fourth is drawing on the emotions of humans. The association of a changeling with a court gives that changeling a certain resonance with a particular emotion and therefore more glamour can be harvested. As for belonging to a court, Peter and Ray both belong to the Spring Court, while I am Courtless."

Seeing the look on my face when Egon mentioned drawing on human's emotions, Peter jumped in, "Harvesting glamour doesn't harm the human. It's like…using solar power. Humans, and other supernatural creatures to a lesser extent, radiate emotions, just like the sun radiates energy. You don't tap directly into the source, just use what comes to you naturally."

That was…better. Better than thinking that changelings were feeding off of emotions, leaving the person drained and damaged, like a vampire feeding off of blood. Speaking of which, "What are some other supernatural creatures? There's more than just ghosts out there, right?" I asked.

"Yeah, there's more than ghosts," Ray said. "And even beyond the Good Neighbors and demons and chthonic beings and concept spirits. There's vampires and mages and werewolves, Uratha, they call themselves, or so I've heard from my friends in the Autumn Court. There're weird things with secondhand emotions that cause homicidal mobs whenever they stay in one place too long, good thing that they're even rarer than we are. There are also human hunters of the supernatural with supernatural powers. Thomas Cant, who's a member of the Autumn Court, corresponded with a member of a hunter group who claimed that he had powers granted from a demonic ancestor."

"Yeah, and he still has the scars from the hellhound familiar that the guy brought with him when he realized that his pen pal wasn't entirely kosher," Peter said sardonically.

"Hellhound?" I asked.

"Well, what else do you call a wolf with glowing eyes that breaths fire? There might be another, more technical term, but I call that a hellhound," was Peter's response.

Egon opened his mouth, probably to offer a more technical term, but Peter quickly continued, "So, any more questions for the moment?"

I was pretty much stunned from all the information I had gotten, and said, "I feel like a character in a bad movie whose just gotten hit with a wad of exposition must." That got slight grins, and I continued, "I think I'm okay for now, though. If I have any more questions…"

"We will answer them to the best of our abilities," Egon said. He stood up, and started towards the door, saying, "Now, I suspect Peter wishes to discuss the terms of your contract. I have some work I wish to complete before I go to bed tonight. And Peter," he threw over his shoulder, "We will be discussing your unilateral actions in showing yourself to Winston without the rest of us."

Ray bounced up enthusiastically. He followed Egon saying, "Can I join in? Just make sure it's not tonight, 'cause Zoltan, Hound of Dracula is on tonight before a showing of Plan 9 from Outer Space and I want…" his voice trailed off as he headed out of earshot.

Peter muttered something about paranoid, overprotective Darklings and overly enthusiastic Elementals before saying, "We've had a lot of business, but we're still paying off loans, besides the fact that the energy used for the containment unit could power the Eastern seaboard, so here's what we can pay you…"

***

That weekend I wound up telling my family about my new job. Dad's response made the universal destruction that Egon had informed me would result from crossing the streams look minor in comparison. Okay, I'm exaggerating, but not as much as you'd think. And that was with only the facts I could tell him, not including the fact that my new employers were changelings. I can picture his reaction to that, and it would have involved spontaneous combustion. However, he didn't disown me and I was still invited to the next family dinner, so I guess that made it at least a partial success.

Business went on, getting busier all the time. I got used to being woken in the middle of the night by screaming nightmares, or walking past the lab in night and seeing Egon working with only a nightlight on. Freaked me out the first time, seeing just a pair of glowing pupils in the lab. Ray did midnight work, too, and the first time I saw him doing it in the lab, I almost woke up Egon and Peter, thinking there was a major electrical crisis in the lab, before I realized it was just Ray. Winter passed and spring arrived. On the first of May, everything went to hell in a hand basket.

If you've seen our movie, then you know about Walter Peck and the containment unit. What you don't know is that it wasn't just Egon who lunged for him with murder on his mind. I got there with Ray, and when Ray saw the building explode…something indefinable drained from his face. To simply call it humanity or sanity isn't giving enough of a description. The only term that seems to cover it is what the changelings call it, Clarity, and it was leaving Ray. I glanced at Egon and Peter, and that same something had left them as well.

Peck started shouting something about arresting us under the Environmental Protection Act and how the explosion was a direct result of that and Egon and Ray's gaze fell on him and the new coldness there suddenly flashed to white-heat. Literally in the case of Ray, the corona of lightning surrounding him was extending around a five foot radius and his eyes were glowing as if there were a thousand lightning bolts striking at the same time. I never really understood what was meant by the saying 'face like thunder' until that moment. They both lunged, Ray faster as he used glamour to wake in his body the lightning that it had once been. Fortunately for Peck, Peter had been expecting something like this and I was close enough to get a hold of Ray's jumpsuit before he attained his fully enhanced speed. Peter and I left Egon to the surrounding police officers and concentrated fully on subduing Ray.

Peter caught Ray, and started whispering in his ear. I was the only person close enough to overhear what was said, and what he said left me cold. He wasn't exactly being soothing, saying reasons not to kill him. Instead what he said was, "Not now Ray! Don't kill him now! Not in front of witnesses Ray…" And there was Egon, not struggling anymore, but staring with an intensity that was more disconcerting than the violent outburst had been.

Anyway, we were arrested and hauled off to a holding cell. Ray seemed to forget his violent inclinations once out of sight of Peck, and I got the impression that Egon had placed his on the back burner, although at that point I wouldn't have been surprised if Peck had wound up floating in the Hudson a week after Egon's release. However, at that point, they were both devoting their energies to determining the architectural oddities in Dana Barrett's building, while Peter and I watched. I figured this would be as good a time as any to address my issues with my employers. I tugged Peter over towards the front corner of the cell and said, "I'm going to be getting my own lawyer."

Peter looked a little shocked and said, "Why? We can get you a much better deal than you could get yourself, and you are our employee, so that is our responsibility."

"I heard what you said to Ray earlier," I said.

He looked confused, "What I said to Ray? What does that have to do…" I could see the moment he understood. He didn't exactly pale, but that's the closest equivalent to his change in coloration. He sighed and said, "I can't force you to stay, but, well, we need you Winston. Not just for your military expertise either. We need your…moral code, your strong ethical standard. If we needed military experience we could have hired any number of people, but we chose you, not only because you didn't cut and run when you saw us, but because you have a very strong moral code, so you could tell us when we're getting too fey, too inhuman."

"You didn't seem to care about that earlier," was my response.

"Trust me, we do think about that, that's why we agreed that our fourth would have to be fully human," his eyes met mine. While I couldn't read his eyes, his face radiated sincerity, too much so to be all fake. "We, as changelings, are prone to losing moral focus, especially when the unexpected happens, and there's always something unexpected to occur."

"Okay," I said, "So why didn't you attack as well? Seems to me that if all changelings are prone to this loss of focus, it would happen equally."

"Not necessarily, any more than all humans lose moral focus after a comparable emotional activity, such as murdering someone.. Also…" there was a noise from our cellmates, we both glanced over to see if anyone was coming over, but they were still focused on the mad scientist sideshow Ray and Egon were putting on. Peter continued, "Also, Arcadia erodes some of the inhibitory responses that humans have to control behavior, both learned and innate. We can learn them, but it's easier if they've been learned or developed in the first place. And they almost never develop naturally in someone who was taken as a child. In addition to this, it adds excitatory behavior, which means that we feel more signals and act on those signals more often."

I quickly put these facts together with the ones I knew about the three changelings, "So you're saying that Egon and Ray never really had the opportunity to develop these inhibitory responses naturally, while you did?"

Peter looked relieved, "Yes. There isn't that much natural inhibitory activity present at five years old, and while Egon's childhood was emotionally repressive, the responses he developed were learned. They aren't all present at age fifteen, either, but I had more time to develop them naturally, while Egon and Ray didn't. Also, I was gone for a shorter period of time, so they didn't have as much time to degenerate. I'm not saying that I wouldn't happily see Walter Peck sunk to the bottom of the Hudson, but I have more of the natural inhibitory responses to control those urges a little." He placed a hand on my shoulder, and said, "I know I'm asking a lot of you, but please don't leave the company. We need you."

He went over and asked the other two what they had found. I stayed where I had been, thinking. I remained there through the discussion of the day and the importance of emotion in the choice of the Gatekeeper and Keymaster. I was still thinking when an officer came to tell us that the mayor had requested our presence.

I considered what Peter had told me carefully. Admittedly, he was one of the Fairest, and even my limited exposure to changelings had taught me that one of the Fairest seeming could sell icemakers to Eskimos if they were so inclined, yet Peter had seemed completely sincere. Also, what he had said made sense and fit into what I had observed myself, both of the three Ghostbusters and the little I had seen of changeling society in general. It explained some of the oddities in the other three Ghostbusters' actions. It also meant that I did have an important role in the company, which was something I had been lacking up until this point. Yes, I contributed bust strategies and extra manpower, but, even there I sometimes got the impression that they were just humoring me. I was missing the tightness that the other three had, and I had the impression that they didn't really trust me at times. Of course, that wasn't really personal, most changelings didn't seem to trust anyone, but it was still there. I was also missing the bond that shared experiences can bring about, both the shared experience of being a changeling, and the shared experience of ten years as good friends. Admittedly the only thing that would solve the latter problem was time, but still. I weighed the possibilities in my head.

Finally, just when we were getting to city hall, I slid over to Peter and whispered, "So, you know a good trial lawyer?"

Peter smiled slightly, and his eyes warmed fractionally as he whispered back, "The best."

Anyway, the mayor called in Walter Peck. Peter had his hands resting on Egon and Ray's shoulders, but other than Ray's eyes starting to glow and Egon's pupils widening there was little response. Too little, actually. Peck started blabbing about how we were the best bunko artists of all time, just like in the movie. Things proceeded quite similarly from there, until the mayor said, "Now, supposing you do save the city, what do you want?" At everyone's looks he said, "Oh, come on, you don't expect me to believe that you're going to do this for free, do you?"

Peter stepped forwards, and said, "Well, your Honor, there's one thing…" he paused, then continued, "A restraining order on Walter Peck. He is to not be within one thousand feet of any Ghostbusters property, personnel, or clientele, or their places of residence, business, or property."

"On what grounds? Surely you don't mean to…" Peck began.

Egon interrupted in a flat voice with, "Destruction of property, criminal negligence, attempted manslaughter…"

Peter interrupted with, "And that's to start with. We have grounds for a lawsuit. But, we will be satisfied with a restraining order."

The mayor paused, and said, "That's it?"

"For now, but I'm sure I'll come up with something else…" was Peter's response before he was hushed by Ray, who seemed to be bouncing back to normal.

"Very well, let's get things rolling!"

* * *

After that point, things went pretty much exactly like the movie portrays. About the only thing that changed was that once Dana and Louis were freed from the stone remains of the terror dogs, they could see the other three for what they were. Apparently, Gozer had ripped off whatever veil separates ordinary humans from the world of glamour without infusion of glamour. However, neither of them were about to go telling everyone about the hidden world, so we thought that we were pretty much safe from exposure.

The next day, the property damage suits came in.

Now, not everyone, or even most people, chose to file one. We had saved the world, and most people seemed to recognize that it was ridiculous to blame us for the property damage Gozer had caused. However, that left the people who wanted to find someone to blame, and decided that since they couldn't file a damages suit against a banished Sumerian god, that filing one against us would have to do.

That was how I came to be sitting in the law offices of Alvey, Black, and Eckard, with Peter Venkman flirting with their secretary nearby. They were the lawyers that all the changelings in New York went to, as all three of the partners were changelings themselves and gave a heavy discount to any changelings who needed help as a payment for the aid the Courts gave them when they were starting up.

By this time, I'd already met Douglas Eckard and Rose Black, the contract law and patent law specialists respectively. Douglas Eckard was an Autumn Court Antiquarian, like Egon. I'd met him the day after I agreed to be hired by the Ghostbusters. Peter had taken me to the firm to have him and me go over the contract. He'd given me the first glimpse of the sheer variety of changelings, even within a kith, for he couldn't have looked more unlike Egon, with his skin like aged papyrus, his short, sturdy, bent form, and his hair black as ink when you looked at it directly, but rippling with all the colors ink comes in when looked at indirectly.

Rose Black was a Smith, a kith much sought after by the courts, particularly as so many of them were Courtless. She belonged to the Winter Court, which was quite surprising as she was one of the first female black lawyers. She couldn't help but stand out, which is very much contrary to the whole philosophy of the Winter Court. She was black, but her mein was the black of soot, not the more natural brown tones commonly seen in black people, her hair was more like fine wire than any type of body covering seen on mammal, and her eyes glowed with the glow of banked forge-lights. I'd met her when I brought Egon over on the way back from a bust to go over some of the patents on the Ghostbusting equipment. She'd seemed businesslike, but very distant, and I'd gotten a slight feeling of distaste off of her. When I'd asked Egon, all he'd said was that there were certain parts of changeling society that did not approve of Ghostbusting and left it at that. I hadn't gotten around to asking Peter or Ray about that, but if Alvey was a member of one of the parts who disliked the Ghostbusters, I'd probably get my explanation.

Marlene Thorn, a jackalope based Runnerswift (antlers, rabbit ears, a deer's hind-legs, and a twitching little nose), was the secretary for the lawyers. She was a member of the Spring Court and appeared at most twenty, but when I asked Peter if she wasn't a bit young to be working for a law firm, he gave me an odd look at first, but then laughed and told me she was actually a little older than him, thirty-six. Then he explained that changelings have an extended lifetime, and tend to age slower as well. The degree apparently varied according to Wyrd, with higher Wyrds bringing about greater increases. I then asked why all changelings didn't pursue higher Wyrds, and was informed that, because Wyrd was a connection to the fey side of changeling nature, it usually came at the cost of Clarity, some changelings didn't care to increase their connection to the Fey, and that it could bring the attention of the True Fey.

Figuring this was the best time to ask, I said, "What's going to happen with Alvey, Ms. Thorn? Peter said he's heard rumors, but what does he do?"

Marlene looked at me with her huge doe eyes, and said, "He's requested that I not tell people exactly what he does, but he prefers to test his changeling and ensorcelled clients. He never refuses a case based on them, but…just try not to act on any anger you feel." There was a brief buzzing sound, she glanced down at it, then said in a suddenly formal tone, "Mr. Alvey will see you now, Dr. Venkman, Mr. Zeddermore."

I wasn't sure to expect when I walked into the office. I'd seen photos of Alvey on advertisements, but those showed only Mask, not mein. Peter had told me that Alvey was a Summer Court Draconic, a guard-soldier-servant of the lovely yet physically monstrous fey, but I had no real idea what he would look like. The first impression I got was of blazing silver, as if a silver statuette had been placed in the summer sun. When I was able to focus on the man, the impression of a silver statuette was continued, as he had an extremely sculpted body. His skin looked at once smooth and made up of tiny silver scales. His lizard-like eyes and claws, yes claws, were the color of tarnished silver. On his face were the faintest impressions of ridges around the eyes and down the cheeks. He might have been Summer Court, but there was nothing warm about this man except for the light. His cold gaze raked us, then, abruptly, he addressed Peter as if I weren't even there, "You only brought your lackey, Dr. Venkman? Don't I deserve at least another full partner in the business?"

Despite Marlene's warning, I nearly got in Alvey's face. It was only with a great deal of effort that I was able to calm myself down. While I was doing so, Peter said, in a highly formal tone, "Dr. Spengler and Dr. Stantz are working on restoring the physical components of the containment unit and are calling in favors to restore the mystical component."

"Ah, yes," purred Alvey, "The containment unit. The cruel place in which you imprison a myriad of disparate spirits with no real hope of release, not even that of death. Tell me, why should I aid in this endeavor, so similar to the imprisonment we suffered in Arcadia?

Peter took a deep breath, then replied, "I'm only going to say this once, because unlike Egon, I'm not going to waste a good explanation. The containment unit is meant to imprison spirits too dangerous to let free. As we believe that complete dissolution is worse than turning someone over to Themselves, we needed a place to keep them. And as for imprisonment, we have made the imprisonment as pleasant as possible, granting the sprits pleasant dreams in an almost sleep-state. The ghosts even have an opportunity to resolve their issues and depart peacefully, which is more than they'd get in the Underworld. It's no worse, and in many ways better, than sending a changeling criminal to mortal prison, which many members of the freehold, including most of the Summer Court, have no problem with, which the Autumn Court has informed everyone about."

Alvey smiled an icy smile, revealing a mouthful of sharp, white teeth, "Well played, Dr. Venkman. If you ever tire of the dilettantes and wish to join a real Court, I will speak for you."

I saw a flash of anger in Peter's face, but it was quickly suppressed, and he replied, "Thank you for your kind offer. I am sure that Spring Queen Lila will be interested in the opinion of the High Knight of the Summer Court, he who speaks for the Court in the intervening seasons, has for her rule and subjects."

I was expecting a hostile reaction from Alvey, after all, Peter had just threatened his social status in the Court, so I was surprised when Alvey laughed and the air got slightly warmer. "The insult was not genuinely meant, Dr. Venkman, although the offer was. I do not expect to be taken up on it, however. Have a seat, both of you."

Peter smiled, not exactly a happy smile, as we sat down, saying, "Glad to hear it. Now, about the lawsuits…"

"Yes," Alvey said, assuming a strictly professional manner. "Now, I understand that you have been receiving lawsuits for damages due to ghosts and other spirits in addition to those for damages from last night. With your permission, I will send them on to Mr. Walter Peck…"

As he continued, my thoughts drifted. I thought of Egon and Ray, working on the containment unit at…home. I realized that I had found a place I belonged, just as much as I belonged with my family. I'd been searching for this ever since I came back from 'Nam. While my family might be good, they weren't quite what I was searching for, but I had finally found it. I might not be spending the next few weeks or months in the firehouse while we rebuilt, but I'd eventually come home.


End file.
